The Vicious Mrs Weasley
by Zapenstap
Summary: POST DEATHLY HALLOWS. Continues from the end of the story, pre epilogue.  Harry wants a sandwich.  Mrs. Weasley wants her family safe.  Ron wants to be safe from Mrs. Weasley


The Vicious Mrs. Weasley

By Zapenstap

Harry's stomach growled noisily.

Behind him, Ron snickered. "Careful, Harry. They may not be able to see you, but they'll sure hear you!"

Harry hoped not. It was only he, Ron, and Hermoine in the corridor so far, and he hoped to make it all the way from the Headmaster's office to Gryffindor Tower without incident.

Now that it was all over—the fighting, the destruction, the death—there was just the process to work through. Actions happened so much faster than emotions could keep up. Harry knew it would be a long time before he would be able to accept everything that happened the last few hours…if not the last few weeks, months, or even years.

But if he was going to get through any of it, he needed peace…and energy. All he really wanted at that moment was a quiet place and a sandwich—delicious ham or turkey on honey wheat bread. Maybe with a pickle. His mouth watered at the thought. When was the last time he ate?

Behind him, Ron and Hermoine were quiet again. He suspected they were holding hands, but he didn't look around to verify it. Once he got to the tower and managed to get a little food in him, Harry would climb into his bed and sleep for a week. Ron, he suspected, wouldn't come up quite so fast.

"Ron! There you are! Gracious, dear, wherever did you get off to?"

Harry looked up and barely managed to squeeze to the side of the corridor as Mrs. Weasley burst into view from around the corner and bustled past him. She hurtled toward her youngest son with the evidence of worry on her face that Harry had familiarized as part of her everyday expression.

"Ron!" she breathed, enveloping him in a hug, wisps of red hair flying around her face. "Don't leave the family without telling me where you are going! I want to keep everyone together!" She stepped back and held Ron at arms' length, examining him head to foot for injuries.

"Mum," Ron breathed. He hadn't flinched from his mother's affection the way he sometimes did. Rather, he had stayed perfectly still. Harry was bemused to see a mixture of awe and trepidation painted on his face as he stared at his mother. "Mum, you were brilliant back there! Just brilliant!"

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley blushed, letting go of her son and patting her hair back into place. "It was nothing. Really. I just did what any mother would do."

Ron was still staring at Mrs. Weasley like he had never seen her before. Even Hermoine's eyes were quite wide. Harry remembered with vivid accuracy the duel between Molly Weasley and Bellatrix Lestrange that had kept a room full of people spellbound in amazement. Bellatrix had never stood a chance.

"You're being modest, Mrs. Weasley," Hermoine interjected. "That was some pretty fine dueling! Even by Auror standards!"

"Well," Mrs. Weasley muttered, still a bright shade of crimson. "I suppose it's all that multi-tasking. You know, feeding so many boys, and the laundry and the housework, not to mention the trouble George and F…" Her voice wobbled, but with a swallow, she finished firmly "Fred would get into. It's not easy being a mother, you know! The nerve going after my Ginny! That Bellatrix had it coming."

"Did she ever!" Ron said. "I still say, bloody brilliant!"

"Watch you language, Ron," Mrs. Weasley snapped absently. Ron obediently shut his mouth.

From underneath his Invisibility Cloak, Harry couldn't help grinning. He had never seen Ron so contrite around his mother. Bellatrix really hadn't any idea what she was getting into when she messed with Mama Bear!

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley seemed to notice that Hermoine and Ron were holding hands. She looked at their joined fingers first and then up at their faces. Ron had turned a bright shade of red. Pink bloomed across Hermoine's cheeks.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at Ron, her lips quivering, tears in her eyes. "My, how you've grown up," she said. She looked at Hermoine, dousing her with the same watery-eyed affection. Hermoine smiled sheepishly back.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you alone then," she said, wiping her eyes. "If you see Harry, give him my love and be sure he takes care of himself. Let him know that Ginny's been asking for him."

She said this in such a way that Harry started. Could she know? Had Ginny told her, or did she somehow figure it out? Did she approve?

"Now that," Ron said with finality as Mrs. Weasley left the way she had come, "is one woman I don't want to cross if I can help it! No offense, Hermoine, I don't relish your being cross at me either, but mum's got one up on you."

Harry's stomach rumbled again.

"Come on, Ron," Hermoine laughed, pulling Ron forward by the arm. "If we don't get Harry something to eat soon, we'll have Mrs. Weasley on us for sure for not taking good care of him!"

"Right," Ron said. "Blimey. I still can't believe it. My mother! She should be an Auror, seriously. She's vicious."

As they continued on their way to Gryffindor Tower, Hermoine and Ron still holding hands, Harry pondered the idea of having the "vicious" Mrs. Weasley for a mother in law.

He couldn't help suppressing a grin.

There wasn't anyone better. Besides being a great duelist, Mrs. Weasley was the finest cook in all England. Now that he knew how powerful a witch she was, he would never dream of refusing one of her hand-made sweaters, and he was pretty sure that if he didn't get Kreacher to make him a sandwich, it was only a matter of time before he would have Mrs. Weasley banging on the door to make sure he was fed and tucked in for the night.

"Vicious" was the word. Viciously loving.

Since his conversation with Dumbledore in that place between life and death, there had been many moments that Harry had been glad—exceptionally glad—that he had decided to wake up and face life again alongside his friends. The love of Mrs. Weasley, the love that she felt so strongly for each member of her family and all the people her family cared for, including Harry, was just one of those things worth living for, and dying for, the kind of thing Voldemort had never understood.

It was a testament of his growth that Harry continued toward Gryffindor with renewed vigor—and an even greater hunkering for a nice, cold cut sandwich on honey wheat bread.


End file.
